Chapter Seventeen

S ybil took a place on a settee. "Where's Libby going?"

At Brad's nod, David poured brandy for him and Brad and a sherry for his wife. Brad took the drink and leaned against the edge of a bookcase. "She's checking with Cora about where to put everyone and whether we have enough food for supper tonight." He raised an eyebrow at his sister and took a sip of his drink. "After all, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow. Nor did we know Caleb and his crew were going to stay over, too."

Sybil looked over the rim of her glass. "Libby's taking over the household already?"

Brad chuckled. "Not really. She feels she needs to repay me for taking her and her children in after the accident."

"Has she seen you without your disgusting mask?"

"No. And I see no reason for her to do so."

David tipped his glass at his brother-in-law. "How can you marry someone who's never seen your face?"

Brad blew out a mouthful of brandy and coughed when part of it went down his throat the wrong way. "Marry? Who said anything about marriage?"

Sybil gave him a side-eye which always made him nervous. She was up to something. One that had given him grief while growing up. She was going to tease him relentlessly until she received the answer she wanted. Being the youngest child and a girl gave her the idea he and Caleb should bow to her every command—which they usually did.

He smiled behind his mask. He loved his sister dearly and, as much as he liked to think she was, there wasn't a spoiled bone in her body. She simply liked to give her big brothers a run for their money. And she did. He could very well imagine she was the same way with David. Lord knew the man was besotted with her.

Before she started in again, he'd better answer her. "I have no plans to marry Libby."

Sybil rose, closed the library door, then retook her seat. She flapped a hand at him. "Take off your awful mask and relax. I doubt she'll come barging in. I imagine she's too busy organizing the troops."

After removing the mask, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. The damn thing was hot, even in winter weather. It had been so much easier to live his life without it before Libby and Charlie arrived.

Now he needed to convince, if not himself, then his family he wasn't in the market for marriage. "Look. Libby lost her husband and is trying to adjust to life here. It hasn't been easy with all the changes."

Sybil frowned. "What changes? Things can't be so much different in the north. It isn't in Boston, anyway."

Damn. Leave it to his sister to jump on his words like an alligator on a fish. He refilled his glass to give himself time to think about what to say. Never in a million years would he be able to explain to them where Libby was really from. He still had a few moments himself when he didn't believe it. But he couldn't deny the proof in her handbag.

So, what to tell his family. His sister inadvertently helped.

"I can't imagine losing David in some strange place and being left alone with two small children." She held out her glass to her husband for a refill. "Have you made any inquiries to her family in Wisconsin?"

"We haven't heard anything from her or his family." While not an outright lie, guilt filled him at the subterfuge. How did one contact people who didn't exist for one-hundred and fifty-four years?

David filled Sybil's glass and took a seat beside her. "What else is she having trouble with?"

"The weather. It's much warmer here. She's from a city and isn't used to the quiet. She also didn't have any help at home and was a schoolmarm. She's used to being busy. Anyway, it's what she tells me."

"She's a schoolteacher?" Sybil widened her eyes. "But she was married."

"Well, if there's a shortage of teachers, it doesn't matter if a woman is married or not. Anyway, it's what she says. Besides, why can a married man work, but not a married woman?"

Sybil smirked. "Seems like you two talk a lot. Must keep you from being lonely."

"Leave it alone, Billy. I'm not marrying her."

David patted her hand as if to say to stop pushing her brother. "Who took care of Charlie when she was teaching?"

"She had a neighbor who took care of him."

Sybil scowled. "It's simply awful when a husband doesn't support her."

"I agree, but like I said, life is different up north." He sat down in a green, winged-back chair in front of the fireplace. Heavens, he hated lying. "Uh. Things aren't as settled there as they are here."

"Huh." Sybil stood and pushed the matching chair closer to Brad.

Brad rolled his eyes. Sybil was digging. He was doomed. No way was he going to tell them about where Libby was from without her permission.

"Colleen says she's very nice and seems to like her."

"She is and Colleen does."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Like her."

Brad held back a growl. Sybil was unrelenting. Why hadn't he kept his mask on? It would have been easier to hide his reaction to her questions. She was way too observant. "Of course, I like her." Had he kept his voice neutral enough? "But it doesn't mean I'm going to marry her."

Dave stood behind his wife's chair and placed his hands on her shoulders. "When did you find them?"

Sybil took one of her husband's hands and rubbed it against her cheek.

A pang stabbed Brad's heart. How he missed those loving touches, those signs of caring. Would he ever have that again? Libby's face flashed in his brain. "Sometime in March."

Sybil frowned. "She's been here eight months and hasn't tried to go home? Whyever not?"

Damn. This was something he and Libby should have discussed, but with his family's early arrival, there hadn't been time. His family was too damn smart, too. Frantically trying to come up with some reasonable answer, he was relieved when someone knocked. His relief was short lived.

"Brad? It's Libby. My I come in?

Sybil chuckled. "First name basis, huh?"

"Where the hell is my mask?" He grit his teeth when Sybil held it in the air. "Give it to me," he whispered. Without thinking, he stuck out his tongue at her as if he were five years old and she'd hidden his favorite slingshot.

"Very mature, Bradley. Very mature."

He held out his hand. "Please."

She waggled a finger at him. "Uh-uh, my dear brother. It's time to face the music. If she screams and runs away at your scar, you know she's not the one."

"Dammit, Sybil. How many times do I have to tell you I'm not marrying again."

"Huh. Keep telling yourself that." She rose and tossed the mask into the fireplace where it burned in a flash. "Come in, Libby."

Brad jumped up and turned his back to the door. His stomach clenched. Sweat beaded on his forehead. No matter what he'd told his sibling, having Libby see him without the mask scared him to death. What if she was revolted? What if she hated him for hiding his face from her?

****

"C ora and I have the sleeping arrangements all settled." Libby stopped. Who was the man with his back to her? His form seemed familiar. Why was Sybil grinning like the Cheshire Cat? The tension in the room was thick enough to cut. What was going on?

She took a few more steps into the room. "Where's Brad?"

Sybil held a hand to her lips, but her eyes were shining. "Why, he's right there." She pointed to the tall man with his back to her.

"Brad?" Where was his mask? Had he decided to let her see his face? She held her breath. Was he so disfigured, it would shock her?

"Leave the room, Libby."

Huh. Like heck she would. She'd spent the last eight months wondering what color his eyes were. If he were as handsome as his brother. Which was wrong. She was a widow. But then, what sane person wouldn't wonder why someone would hide their face?

"I will not. Not until you turn around and face me."

Brad's shoulders drooped and he hung his head. "I can't."

"Bradley Kemble. Turn around."

"Oh, oh, big brother. Sounds an awful lot like an order." Sybil tapped a finger against her lips. "Sounds like a teacher voice, too. Or like Mother when you did something naughty."

"Sybil. Shut up."

"Fine." Sybil stood and took her husband's hand. "C'mon, dear. I know when I'm not wanted."

Brad's chuckle was more like a growl. "So, you finally figured it out. Don't let the door hit you in the back when you leave."

****

B rad closed his eyes and let out his breath. They were gone, but what now? He only had the one hood. Maybe he could stay in the library until he was sure Libby was in the kitchen, or dining room, or Charlie's room, or her room.

Heavens, he was a coward. How would he explain not showing up for dinner or putting Charlie to bed? After all, it was his turn.

He headed to the decanter on a side table. He needed another brandy. Maybe an entire bottle. Yes, he was a coward of the worst kind. Something alerted him. He wasn't alone in the room. Libby? He took a deep breath and turned on his heel.

Libby didn't say a word. Simply stared at him then took a step closer. "Why, you are every bit as handsome as Caleb."

What? That was all she had to say? Belinda... Well, he wasn't going to think about what that woman did when she first saw his scar. Or anyone else. Why did people think a scar made a person evil, stupid, or deranged?

"What did you say?"

"I said you are as handsome as your brother."

His stomach went back into its proper position. "That's what I thought you said."

Libby frowned and stepped closer until she was a mere two feet away. "What? Did you think I would run screaming from the room as if you were a monster?"

"You wouldn't be the first one to do so."

She raised her hand as if to touch his scar. He took her wrist. "Don't."

Libby dropped her hand. "I'm sorry. I guess I understand why you hid your face, but on the other hand, I don't. Why would you care what people think? Do you hide from your nieces and nephews, your brother and sister?"

"No."

"They are the only ones who matter. Don't you think?"

Brad shrugged. She was right. It was time to face his demons, both inside him and those who turned their backs on him. "I guess. You don't mind my scar?"

"Having been able to know you these past months, I understand you are more than your outer shell. You are kind, considerate, smart. I could go on and on, but I can't think of any more adjectives."

If he'd thought earlier he was falling for her, he was positive now. But what should he do about it? Take her to where the accident occurred and hope she didn't disappear? Keep her here? Wait a few months and begin courting her? He ran a hand over his face, the ridges of his scar rubbing against his palm.

"Brad. Libby. Dinner is on the table. We're waiting for you. Caleb and Colleen are here, too." Sybil rapped on the door but didn't open it.

"We'll be right there, Sybil." He searched Libby's face to look for any lies she may be telling. By now she probably was aware he was successful and could support her and her children. Was she after his money? No. Not possible. If she were, she wouldn't be asking to see where the accident occurred. She wouldn't be wanting to go home. Plus, there was no guile in her eyes. They were as honest as the day was long.

He took her elbow. "Shall we? We can continue this discussion at another time."

The closer they came to the dining room, the louder the noise level became. Eight children under the age of eight, four adults, Cora, and the other servants, made for a rambunctious group. In accordance with tradition, one he hadn't followed since Lucinda had died, everyone on the farm partook in the festivities. To make things easier, the meal was buffet style. The table was set for sixteen with smaller tables set up for the children.

The side tables were laden with turkey, ham, various types of potatoes, yams, okra, gravy, and so many desserts someone with a sweet tooth would be in his glory. His mouth watered. Someone like himself.

He stopped Libby in the doorway of the room, taking in the laughter, teasing, and joking taking place. His heart swelled with joy. How he'd missed this. Going to Caleb's for the holidays wasn't the same. This was his house. His family, including his employees, filling the house with love.

Libby tapped his arm. "Look at Charlie. With all the children to play with, he's in his element." Two female employees held the youngest children. As if she knew what was going on around her, Lucy laughed and squealed with delight.

He hadn't thought they'd made a sound, but Caleb turned their way. He nudged Colleen who stopped filling plates for her children. Her mouth dropped open. She poked Sybil who nudged David. As the poking and prodding went around the room, it became silent. Everyone stared. Sybil grinned and winked. Caleb raised a glass in a toast. Using a corner of her apron, Cora wiped at the tears running down her cheeks.

As if he didn't understand the intensity of the situation, Charlie skipped over to Libby. "Hey, Mama. Whatcha doing with Mr. Bwad? Hi, Mr. Bwad. Why are you holding Mama's arm? Are we going to eat soon? I'm hungry. Are you hungry, Mr. Bwad? We're having fun, Mama. Even Wizzie is having fun. Is Santa coming tonight? Will I get presents? I'm sleeping with Davy in a big bed. The babies are sleeping in my room. That means I'm not a baby, doesn't it, Mama? Right, Mama?"

How did the child know who he was? He'd never taken his mask off in front of him.

Libby put a hand on her son's shoulders. "Hush, now, Charlie. Hush." She nudged the boy back to his friends. "Pretend like nothing is different and they won't make a big deal about you not wearing a mask."

Her voice was so quiet, he barely heard her, but he nodded. She was right. Not making a big deal would be the best. No explanations. Simply walk in as if nothing were unusual. As if everyone wasn't already staring, he clapped his hands to get their attention. "Thank you, everyone, for joining us on Christmas Eve. It's been a long time since I've hosted a gathering here."

Caleb snorted. "You got that right." Colleen elbowed him in the ribs.

"So, without further ado, let's bow our heads and give thanks for everyone's health and for the food your hands worked hard to prepare."

After a few moments of silence, which was all the children could take, Cora helped fill the children's plates and got them settled at their table.

Brad swept his hand at the food. "Guests first." Once his plate was filled, he went to the table, eyed the seating arrangement, raised an eyebrow at Sybil and Colleen, then took the only empty chair. The one next to Libby. "Sorry," he whispered.

"About what?" Libby sprinkled salt and pepper on her potatoes.

"They planned this."

Libby frowned. "Planned what?"

Brad shook his head. "Never mind." Evidently, she had no idea his family was trying to push them together.

****

L ibby hadn't enjoyed a Christmas holiday like this in years. The laughter. The joy. The teasing. Gatherings with her family were quiet and tense. Even the addition of Charlie hadn't loosened her parents' disapproval of everything she did. Since she was an only child, their discontent was focused on her. Visits with Ben's family were better, but infrequent.

She'd often read where children were to be seen and not heard. How children in the past did not join their parents at their meals. They were fed in the kitchen and sent off to bed. Since being here, she knew it wasn't true. At least not at Whispering Pines. The children, even though at another table, were included in the adult conversations. Or rather, the adults kept their conversations to include the children.

When everyone was done eating, and with promises of a special story after their baths, Colleen and Sybil's nannies led the children from the room. Libby stood to help clean the table.

"Shoo, young lady." Cora flapped her apron at her. "There's enough helpers here tonight, I don't need you. You ladies go have a sherry in the parlor. The men have those stinky cigars and will join you soon."

****

L ibby suppressed a burp. If she were in her own time, she'd let one rip and make Charlie laugh. She joined Colleen and Sybil in the drawing room. This was one tradition she didn't agree with. What did the men discuss that the women couldn't hear? Ridiculous.

Sybil poured them each a glass of sherry. "I'm amazed at how well the children are getting along. For a while there, I thought they'd come to blows trying to outdo each other to see who could talk first."

"And the loudest." Colleen took a glass from her sister-in-law.

"I'm amazed at how well you got the children under control." Sybil gave Libby her glass of sherry.

"It's the way Libby was when we were all here this summer."

"Too bad she wasn't able to knock some sense into your and Caleb's heads. I understand you two got into a little tiff. I don't know how you stay married to him. He drove me crazy when we were kids."

Colleen raised an eyebrow.

"I know. I know. You love him to death. I hear the same thing from David's sister. They thought I was crazy to marry him, but when you are crazy in love you want to be with them for the rest of your life."

Libby held back a sob. She was supposed to be with Ben until they died, which wasn't supposed to happen for decades. She held her twisted hanky to her lips.

Sybil jumped and knelt before her. "I'm so sorry, Libby. I wasn't thinking. Here we are going on and on about our husbands and you..."

"It's all right, Sybil. You didn't mean anything by it. Some days I'm fine and others it hits me like a semi."

Colleen and Sybil exchanged glances. "Semi?" they said in unison.

Damn. She needed to watch what she said. "It's... Um... It's what we call a large, uncovered wagon in Wisconsin."

Sybil frowned. "Really? I never heard of such a thing. In Massachusetts, we call them buckboards."

"Well, we do, too, but sometimes we say semi."

Colleen set her glass on a side table. "Tell us about your life in Wisconsin."

Libby's stomach dropped. What should she say? "I imagine it's a bit like here, except we have long winters with a lot of snow."

"That's not what I meant." Colleen clasped her hands in her lap. "I didn't want to ask questions this summer, but Charlie talked about the strangest things. I know children have active imaginations, but his is quite remarkable. Cars. Trucks. Televisions. Telephones. He even drew us pictures."

Charlie. What was she going to do about him and his big mouth? He was only three but seemed to remember everything. She giggled. "Well, that's Charlie for you."

"Then there are the strange shoes you wear."

Please, please would someone interrupt them? The pitter patter—or more like pounding of little feet—rattled the windows. A herd of elephants couldn't make as much noise. Libby jumped up from her chair. "I think the children are coming." Whew. Saved by the little monsters.

****

C aleb leaned an elbow on the fireplace mantle, took a sip of brandy, then glared at Brad. "So, when are you going to tell us what is going on?"

"What do you mean? I haven't heard anything more about the counterfeiters. Have you? I did get a telegram from Washington. They are sending more men to look into the situation."

David frowned. "What are you guys talking about? Counterfeiters?"

"It's not what I was going to talk about, but I guess we could discuss the situation. What about the telegram, Brad?"

Whew. Quick thinking on his part. He turned to David. "There's been counterfeit money and notes floating around. The printing is good enough to fool an untrained eye. People can turn the notes in for US money."

"How did you know they were phony?" David took a puff of his cigar and blew a perfect circle.

"Nice, David. Too many banks and businesses are getting the same type. When they won't accept the money or notes, the men trying to pass them off get violent. One bank clerk has been killed. One store owner had his cash stolen when he refused to take the money."

Caleb tried to emulate David's smoke ring. The men laughed when it resembled a wobbly square. "Because I had been in law enforcement before the war and before I married Colleen, the local constabulary contacted me. I, in turn, sent a message to my contact in Washington to inform them of what was happening. Even though Lincoln established the National Banking Act in 1863 to make currency standard, many places haven't abided by it. It was too easy for banks to print their own money."

"We, and I mean the government, is worried why all of a sudden these counterfeiters have started making so many types of notes to convert to gold and silver." Brad sat behind his desk and placed his glass on a blotter. "Since the dawn of time there have been people making fake money."

Caleb shook his head. "We are to keep our eyes open for anyone suddenly flush with money." He turned to Brad and smirked. "Nice try, Brad."

"What the hell do you mean? Nice try with what? I'm not making bad money."

"I know." Caleb chuckled. "I mean nice try in moving the subject off you and Libby."

Brad gritted his teeth. "There is no me and Libby. How many times do I have to say it?"

"Until you admit there is." David pointed his cigar at Brad. "I didn't hear her screaming and running from you when she saw you without your mask. In fact, I thought the two of you seemed quite cozy."

"And then there's all the strange things Charlie talks about. Colleen and I have discussed it. There's something unusual about her and her son. We want to know what it is."

Brad refrained from wiping his sweaty forehead. His heart raced. What should he say? He didn't want to break Libby's confidences. "You know what active imaginations children have. Remember when your oldest told you about the sea monster he found in the river? How he fought it with a saber and killed it? Remember?"

Caleb sighed. "Yes, I remember. But the things he says and draws are so vivid."

"Well, I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't?" Caleb glared at him. "She's not hiding something like—maybe she's part of the counterfeiting ring? If you are, not only will she be put in prison, but so will you."

Good heavens. Where did his brother get his ideas? Brad took a deep breath to calm the anger building in him. "She. Is. Not. Part. Of. The. Counterfeiters. Or. Anything illegal."

"Then what—"

Brad couldn't hide his relief when a knock came on the door. "Gentlemen, the children are ready for their story and need help hanging their stockings."

"We'll be right there, honey." Caleb crushed his cigar in an ashtray and stabbed a finger in Brad's chest. "This discussion isn't over, my boy. I'll find out what is going on if it takes me all weekend."

Which was what he was afraid of. Like his wife, once Caleb got his talons into something, he didn't give up until he had answers he was satisfied with. "Can this at least wait until tomorrow? I won't share Libby's secrets until I talk with her and get her permission."

"You have until tomorrow afternoon. Then..."

"Then what, Caleb? You have her arrested for no reason? Not likely. Besides, you can't take a mother away from her nursing child."

"Tomorrow afternoon, Bradley Kimble." As quick as a wink Caleb turned his frown into a smile. "Now, let's join the women and children so the little ones can go to bed." He swept from the room with David following.

With a houseful of guests, when was he going to find time to talk with Libby? The only thing he could think of was to take her aside tonight. Why had life become so complicated?